


starving hysterical naked

by flibbertygigget



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Ginny Weasley is a 12 year old girl, Other, Post-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Psychological Trauma, Severus Snape gives some awkward yet solid sex ed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 21:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15179591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: Ginny longed for the diary. She couldn’t help it. Tom Riddle hadknownher. He had come inside her, filling every empty space and infiltrating every pore. He brought out her darkness – the guilty thoughts, the horrible wants – and told her that it was good, it was normal.And then there was Professor Snape.





	starving hysterical naked

The first thing she remembered, really remembered, wasn’t Harry waking her from an enchanted sleep with a kiss. She told herself that it was, almost convinced herself that it was true, but in reality she didn’t remember anything until later. Just how much later was anyone’s guess – all Ginny knew was that it was long enough for her to be taken from the dark chamber and into the clean whiteness of the hospital wing.

She remembered hands, long-fingered and boney, touching her gently. Nothing inappropriate, nothing that made her feel uncomfortable, just fingers lightly dancing over her forehead, her cheek, her shoulder, her left forearm. Every so often she would feel the tip of a wand rest on her skin, hear a soft baritone muttering in Latin. She forced her eyes open, and she saw Professor Snape, his thin face rigid with concentration, raising dark wisps of _something_ from her body into a glass bowl. The bowl was about half full, and Ginny could feel the sickness at the back of her throat.

“P – Pr-“ His fingers came to rest on her forehead, brushing back an errant lock of hair.

“Shh,” he said, voice softer and gentler than she could have ever imagined it. “You’ll be perfectly alright in the morning.” Ginny nodded and let her eyes close.

* * *

She woke to the sound of low voices. Mum’s was first, high and fretting, and then Dad trying to calm her down. Then she heard a third, deep and steadying. That third voice was the one that forced her to focus.

“… shouldn’t be blamed,” Professor Snape said. “The Dark Lord always found it easy enough to lead on even otherwise intelligent witches and wizards.”

“Of course,” Mum said. “I didn’t mean to blame her, or – or blame anyone else who-“

“The point is,” Dad cut in, “the _point_ is that we have to decide what should be done. I won’t have this getting around. You know how people react to the mere _suggestion_ of You-Know-Who. This could ruin everything for her.”

“I managed to remove the remainders of the Dark residue from her,” Professor Snape said, and Ginny felt a hollow sort of loss. “Unfortunately, experiences such as hers… leave traces, traces beyond what magic can erase. I would suggest finding a Healer who is trained in the art of Legilimancy.”

“Professor…” Mum sounded nervous. “Dumbledore told us what you did in the war.” She paused. “If you would consent to – I mean, I doubt there’s any Healer with the expertise who would be discreet enough. Perhaps… you could…” There was a long pause.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Professor Snape said. Mum made a sound like she was about to argue. “No, if you knew, you wouldn’t let me anywhere near Miss Weasley’s mind.”

“Who else would be better?” Mum said. “Don’t argue with me, Professor. If this _is_ connected to – to You-Know-Who, then who else could know? Who else could understand?” There was another pause, and then Ginny felt a thin hand rest gently on her shoulder.

“I will consider it,” Professor Snape said.

* * *

Ginny longed for the diary. Though she knew that it was evil, knew that it was what had caused all those students to be petrified and Ginny herself to nearly be killed, she couldn’t help it. Tom Riddle had _known_ her. He had come inside her, filling every empty space and infiltrating every pore. He brought out her darkness – the guilty thoughts, the horrible wants – and told her that it was good, it was normal.

She wanted it to be normal. That was the worst of it. She couldn’t blame this on the diary, because this came from inside of her, continuing beyond the confines of the hungry pages. When she had begun, she had thought she could spill the horrid thoughts onto the page, where they would disappear and never plague her again. She had spent almost an entire inkwell on the exorcism, on the confessional where Tom played priest.

But Tom had been – Well, he hadn’t been what he’d seemed to be. Mum and Dad seemed content to leave it there, to assume that all the awful things came from You-Know-Who, but Ginny knew better. Her thoughts had been her own, and she would never ever be rid of them.

* * *

Professor Snape looked completely out of place. In the halls of Hogwarts, he was larger than life, swooping down on students like divine retribution. In the Burrow he seemed smaller. Not diminished, really, but brought from his element down to earth. And whatever else the Professor knew, Ginny could tell that he didn’t quite understand how to deal with Mum.

Professor Snape glared as Mum forced him to take tea and biscuits. He eventually convinced her that their conversation would be better without interference and, at long last, Ginny and Professor Snape were left alone. She looked down at her mug, holding the hot ceramic tightly, but he didn’t say anything right away. Eventually Ginny couldn’t bear the silence anymore.

“Well?” she said. “Why’re you here?” Professor Snape didn’t answer. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“Absolutely not,” Professor Snape said. Ginny blinked.

“Why not?” she said. Her hands were shaking. Her tea was slopping over the edges of her mug, but she barely noticed the burning liquid as it splattered her hands. “Mum and Dad do. They try not to show it, but I can tell. Why wouldn’t you think I’m crazy?” Professor Snape calmly took a sip of his tea. Somehow, the fact that he didn’t seem bothered by her outburst calmed Ginny a little. Even if he agreed that she was crazy, he obviously didn’t think that she was _hopelessly_ crazy. With how Mum had been hovering and Dad had been trying to talk about things, she had been worried.

“Miss Weasley,” Professor Snape said, “you are not crazy. You’ve been through an ordeal that anyone would have difficulties dealing with.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Ginny said. She knew that she was being a bit of a brat, but she didn’t want to have had an ordeal. She didn’t want Professor Snape talking in that calm tone and digging up all the awful things inside her. She just wanted to pretend that none of it had happened.

“What have your parents told you?” Professor Snape said.

“That you were going to talk to me. Like a Mind Healer.” Professor Snape frowned over his biscuit.

“Well, that is false,” he said. “I am not trained as a Mind Healer, and I would likely do more harm than good if I attempted to act the part of one. Unfortunately, the circumstances surrounding the events of last year make security an issue. Until your parents find a Mind Healer that can be trusted, they believe that it would be… beneficial for you to speak about things with someone.”

“That’s stupid,” she said. “Even if I wanted to, I’d never talk to _you_.” When he didn’t answer, she set her mug down violently. “Didn’t you hear me? You can leave now.”

“Unfortunately, I promised your parents that I would stay for an hour.”

“An hour!”

“Yes.” Ginny kicked at the floorboards.

“This is so unfair!” she said. Professor Snape didn’t answer. “I’m not going to talk to you, you know.”

“That is perfectly fine with me,” he said. Ginny knew that he was lying. He’d been brought here to dig up all her secrets, and he wouldn’t be happy until she spilled it all. She braced herself for the oncoming interrogation.

To her surprise, he didn’t say anything to her for the rest of the hour. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all until he quietly took his leave.

* * *

“Why’d they ask you to come anyways?” Ginny asked. Professor Snape looked up from the book he was reading abruptly. After two sessions of the Potions Master simply sitting in the chair, Ginny had decided that he was serious about this, whatever _this_ was.

“Excuse me?” Professor Snape said.

“I mean, I know that they don’t trust the Mind Healers because it turned out to be You-Know-Who. That makes sense. But I don’t get why they asked you.” Professor Snape closed his eyes and took a deep gulp of his tea, obviously trying to buy himself time. “Was it because of what happened during the war?” The Potions Master spit out his tea, coughing.

“What?” he said when the coughing had subsided. “How did you – Where did you hear that?”

“I – I just heard you talking about it with them. Back when I was in hospital.”

“I suppose I can’t take points for eavesdropping, under the circumstances,” Professor Snape said irritably. “Still, that was not meant for your ears.”

“I think I deserve to know,” Ginny said. He glared at her. “Sir,” she said belatedly. He sighed.

“I suppose you have enough information to come to erroneous conclusions already,” he muttered.

“I don’t think they’re very erroneous,” Ginny said. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. “I think you got possessed by You-Know-Who, like I did. But then you broke it somehow and went to Dumbledore and told him what had happened. That’s why Dumbledore told my parents, because you would know how it feels to – to have him controlling you.” Professor Snape looked like he didn’t know whether to smirk or grimace. “I’m wrong, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are,” he said curtly. “Rest assured, my actions during the war were completely my own. In _that_ , at least, we differ. However, the events of the war…” He seemed to struggle for a moment. Ginny leaned forward eagerly, aware that she was about to learn something important and secret, something that none of her brothers could claim to know. “Well, I became acquainted with the workings of the Dark Lord’s mind, specifically the ways in which he could infiltrate my own.”

“He could do that?” Ginny said. She was fascinated, if morbidly so. “How’d you – I mean, everyone knows that he killed people. How’d you get away?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Professor Snape said. “I wasn’t captured.” Ginny squirmed in her seat.

“Then how could you have-“ Professor Snape stood abruptly.

“Our time is up,” he said.

“But-“

“This discussion is over.” His voice was a low growl, and Ginny knew that if she had heard him sound like that in Potions she would have started running. “If you want more information, ask your parents. _They’re_ certainly more qualified to speak of it than I.”

“But they don’t get what happened with – with the diary. You do.”

“The point still stands. It’s complicated, and you are twelve. They will know better what to say.”

“But-“ Without another word, Professor Snape swept out of the Burrow. Ginny heard the crack of Disapparation, and she flopped back in her chair. It was disappointing that Professor Snape wouldn’t just answer her, but at least he had given her permission to ask Mum and Dad. Ginny didn’t know why, but she _needed_ to understand.

* * *

“Mum,” Ginny said tentatively, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course, dear,” Mum said. Ginny mentally pumped her fist in the air. Mum had been seemed more broken up about the whole diary thing than Dad, so Ginny had thought that she would probably be more open to answering her. She was glad that her instincts seemed to have been correct.

“Um, it’s about Professor Snape.” Ginny bit her lip, trying for a look of mild curiosity and worry, rather than the very spirit of nosiness. Mum tensed a little, but she didn’t seem to completely close off. “It’s just, he was saying some things, and…”

“And what did he say?” Mum’s voice sounded dangerous, and Ginny quickly backtracked.

“Oh, it wasn’t anything serious. He was just talking about how he was the one helping me because he could relate. He mentioned the war, so I was just wondering what he, um, did during the war.” Mum sighed, canceling the cooking with a flick of her wand.

“Darling, that’s not really my story to tell,” she said.

“He said I could ask you,” Ginny said. He’d actually said that she could ask Mum about the war, but since Professor Snape had been part of the war Ginny figured it qualified. Mum sighed again.

“I don’t know all the details,” she said, “and what I do know I found out from the Headmaster. Really, you would be better off asking Professor Snape.” Ginny narrowed her eyes, refusing to back down. “Still, if he gave you permission to ask me…”

“He did,” Ginny said decisively. Mum hesitated a moment more.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to tell you what I know,” she said. Mum sat on the sofa, patting the cushion next to her. Ginny sat, trying to hide her excitement.

“So, what did he do?” she said.

“Now, mind you, this is all second-hand,” Mum said. “I can’t vouch for what Professor Snape was thinking during all of this. But the way Headmaster Dumbledore tells it, Professor Snape was one of the many students who joined the Death Eaters after his sixth year, almost the moment he turned seventeen. That would have been in ’77, I suppose. Shortly after that was when it became a full-blown war. Many people tried to leave the Death Eaters when they saw where things were heading, but most of them were slaughtered. You-Know-Who was able to look in their minds, you see, and know who was loyal and who was not.”

“So Professor Snape…” Ginny said. Her mouth felt dry.

“He found a way around it, a way to protect his mind. He knew that if he tried to run he would be hunted down, so he went to Dumbledore and offered his services as a spy for our side, at great personal risk.” Ginny’s eyes were wide. She had heard stories about the war before, of course – of her uncles Fabien and Gideon, of “Mad-Eye” and the Aurors, and especially of Harry Potter – but never a story quite like this one.

“You and Dad were in the Order…” she said.

“We knew that the Headmaster had spies – knew that the same way we knew that You-Know-Who had spies in _our_ ranks. But he didn’t tell anyone who they were. He couldn’t risk it, not when any of us could have secretly been on You-Know-Who’s side.”

“He must have been so alone,” Ginny said softly. Of all her siblings, she had always liked to hear about the war the most. Alone in her room, she would create elaborate fantasies of a world where she had been more than an infant during it, a world where she could have fought alongside the heroes of her bedtime stories.

But this wasn’t a bedtime story. Maybe it was because she knew a little of what it must have felt like to have You-Know-Who in his mind, but Professor Snape already seemed more raw, more real than the insubstantial echoes she’d dreamed about before. Ginny could already tell that parts of Professor Snape’s life would make their way into the dramas that played out in her mind, and she couldn’t decide whether she found the prospect weird or exciting.

* * *

The next time Professor Snape came for their weekly sessions, she didn’t waste time glaring into her tea. Instead, Ginny stared at _him_ while he poured the tea and settled into the armchair he usually occupied.

He didn’t look like someone who used to be a spy. Sure, he could be intimidating, but his looks were completely mundane. His hair was long and greasy, his face was dominated by his hooked nose, and his entire body looked unhealthily thin. But then he opened the potions journal that he’d brought with him, and Ginny had to suppress a shiver.

It’s in his eyes, she thought. She’d noticed them before, in Potions class, but now that she knew more about him it all made sense. They were dark brown, almost black, and even normally they were easily his best feature. But when they were focused, really focused, they held an almost supernatural sway, like a compulsion charm or a siren’s song. Ginny had never been particularly interested in potions, but the fact that he was turning that look on the journal made her want to snatch it from his hands.

“Mum told me about what you did in the war,” she blurted out. His gaze flicked up to her in an instance. “Well, she told me what Dumbledore told her.”

“And your verdict?” he said, voice silky and perfectly composed. Now _that_ just wasn’t fair. Ginny’s brothers had always teased her for her voice being squeaky and just plain girly. Anything she said to Professor Snape would sound ridiculous. She took a deep breath.

“I can see why everyone thought that you would be able to help me,” she said. Professor Snape set the portions journal aside.

“So, are you ready to speak of your experiences?” he said. Ginny bit her lip.

“I don’t know,” she said. Professor Snape nodded.

“Understandable,” he said.

“I just – I don’t know if you’d-“ She broke off, frustrated. “I don’t know.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Professor Snape said. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t endeavor to traumatize my students – or further traumatize, in your case.” Ginny usually would have hated that word, “traumatized,” but it didn’t sound so bad coming from him. He didn’t say it like it was a failure or a weakness. From him, it simply _was_ , a fact like any other. “You are to simply tell me as much or as little as you like, when you like.”

“Can I ask you things, too?” Ginny said.

“I reserve the right to refrain from answering,” Professor Snape said cautiously.

“Alright,” Ginny said. For a moment both of them were silent.

“Is there anything you would like to know now?” Professor Snape offered. Ginny tried to think of a question that he’d actually be willing to answer.

“Um, can I have that journal?” she asked. Professor Snape blinked, surprised, but he handed it over. Ginny opened it and tried to read. She understood almost none of it, but that could have been because Professor Snape’s sharp gaze was fixed on her now, making her prickle from the intensity of it.

* * *

Ginny actually locked her door the first time she used Professor Snape’s story to play pretend.

She didn’t usually bother. Sure, it would be embarrassing to be caught waving her wand at imaginary Death Eaters or talking to invisible Order members, but it wasn’t like anyone would burst in without knocking. This, however, seemed different, more personal, and she couldn’t stand the idea of anyone intruding, even on accident.

She started, as usual, by pacing. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining a grimy safehouse. It was Muggle, she decided, with electricity-powered lighting and a broken television in the corner. It was dusk, and the last rays of sunlight were casting long shadows through the moldering curtains.

“We have to move!” she said. “The Death Eaters are after us!”

_It’s too much of a risk_. That was Uncle Gideon, who Mum had said was always the more cautious of her brothers.

“Well, it won’t do us any good to be caught here,” she said, sitting down on her bed. She looked up, imagining Uncle Gideon looking down at her.

_But we have to stay._ Ginny suddenly had an idea for why they couldn’t leave. _You know that the spy said he would meet us here._ Yes, that made sense. She stood and mimed brushing aside the curtains.

“I don’t think he’s coming,” she said. “It’s already been an hour.” She imagined the fear – of their spy being caught, of being caught themselves, of the horror that would happen if they failed – and she felt her heart begin to pound as though it was reality.

_If he’s been caught, we could be in even greater danger_ , Uncle Gideon said. She turned to him.

“No, you’re right. We have to give him a chance to get here. Lots of things could have happened.”

_What if he doesn’t come through?_

“He will,” she said. “He always has before.” Because if there was one thing that Ginny knew was actually real, it was that Professor Snape would have been as competent a spy as he was a professor. He’d been the one to brew the potion to undo her mistakes, he’d been the one to help her when she was in hospital, and it was comforting to include him in her fantasies about the war.

She heard a door slam… downstairs, she decided. She froze, and so did the imaginary Uncle Gideon.

_Do you think it’s him?_

“I’ll check,” she said. She mimed opening a door and sneaking down a hallway to look down a rickety flight of stairs. She gave a little gasp. “Uncle Gideon!”

It was easier to imagine Professor Snape than any of the other shades. After all, she’d seen him just the other day. He was leaning against the doorframe in his usual heavy robes, face bloodless and drawn with pain.

“Professor!” Ginny said, and then she paused. Did it make sense for Professor Snape to be at Hogwarts if the war was going on? But then she would have to call him Mr. Snape, which just sounded wrong. Either that or…

_How many times,_ Professor Snape said, _have I told you to call me Severus?_

Ginny had to pull herself out of it then. She had never felt guilty for fantasizing about the war, even when she knew that Mum and Dad were still cagey talking about it. But thinking about Professor Snape as _Severus_ crossed a line somewhere. She didn’t know why it was, but it made her feel nervous – nervous and something else, something she couldn’t put a name to.

She wouldn’t think about it anymore, she decided. She didn’t want to feel that way ever again.

* * *

“You said that you wanted me to talk about it,” Ginny said the next time that Professor Snape came over, not even letting him open the book he’d brought this time. He nodded, settling back in the armchair. “I don’t – I don’t think I want to tell you everything yet, but I could tell you some of it.”

“I believe that would be helpful to you,” Professor Snape said. Ginny took a deep breath.

“Well, what do you want to know?” she said.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Professor Snape said. Even though she could tell that he was trying to sound gentle, his words still came out like an order. Somehow Ginny didn’t mind. It made it easier to talk about it when she could pretend that she was being forced.

“I found it inside one of my books. It was second-hand, so I just thought that it belonged to whoever had owned it before. It was empty, so…” She shrugged.

“Naturally.”

“So I started writing in it. And then Tom wrote _back_.” Ginny looked down at her mug. “I know I was stupid. Dad had told me before how dangerous things like that can be, things that are enchanted to act like they’re alive when they really aren’t. I should have told him right away, but instead – instead I ended up hurting people.”

“Miss Weasley…” Ginny didn’t look up. She didn’t want Professor Snape to see the stupid tears in her eyes. “Ginny.” She jumped at that, looking into his eyes almost on accident. “If I am understanding you correctly, you blame yourself for what happened last year.”

“Of course,” Ginny said. Professor Snape scowled.

“Well, don’t,” he said bluntly.

“What do you mean?” said Ginny.

“Miss Weasley, the Dark Lord tricked many far older and more experienced than you when he was in power. How could anyone expect you to _not_ trust a diary that showed no signs of being his work? No, the blame here lies with the Dark Lord and with Lucius Malfoy.”

“But Dad said – Dad warned me about stuff like that! I should have known better!” Professor Snape shook his head.

“Perhaps you made errors, but I know first-hand how persuasive the Dark Lord can be,” he said. “By all means, learn from this experience. _That_ can only serve you well. But don’t take the blame on yourself.”

“I could have killed someone,” Ginny said.

“Yes,” Professor Snape said. “We are quite fortunate that you kept fighting as long as you did. If the Dark Lord had found himself in the hands of a willing accomplice, he would have been able to act far more effectively. Even when you didn’t know what was happening to you, you were still hesitant enough to cause him trouble. It was that, I might remind you, that almost led to _your_ death.”

“Still, if I had just told someone…”

“You are as much a victim of that diary as any of those petrified. I don’t expect one conversation to expunge you of all guilt, but I would ask you to stop trying to find new ways to be in the wrong.” When Ginny didn’t answer, Professor Snape sighed. “Miss Weasley, when your parents told you about my role in the last war, what did you think of me?” Ginny felt her face heating up. “Tell me the truth. I won’t be offended.”

“You must have been so scared!” Ginny blurted out. Professor Snape’s eyes widened, and Ginny rushed to explain. “I mean, You-Know-Who would have killed you if he found out, and you were all alone. No one knew about you and no one would have helped you. You’d have to have been really brave to do that every day while _knowing_ that either the war would end or-“ Professor Snape was a shade or two paler than usual, hands clenching the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles looked like they could burst from his skin.

“Don’t!” he said harshly. Ginny fell silent, her throat suddenly dry. Professor Snape’s gaze roved around, as though he couldn’t bear the idea of looking her in the eye. “Don’t speak of things you don’t understand,” he said at last, his voice soft and empty.

“I understand more than you think,” Ginny said. He was staring at her now, disbelieving, and it made something in her stomach hurt a little. “I know you think that I’m just a kid, but I’m not. I know what it’s like to have him talking to me, to – to have him _inside_ me. It felt _right_. It must’ve been so difficult to figure out that he was lying and to start working against him.” Professor Snape closed his eyes. He looked exhausted, like the memory of what had happened was sucking the life from him.

“Perhaps you ought to spare a little of that forgiveness for yourself instead of wasting it on a Death Eater,” he said.

* * *

Ginny knelt down, picturing a younger Professor Snape leaning against the wall. She imagined him slashed open this time, holding his dark robes to his chest in an attempt to stem the blood pouring from him.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re going to be okay.”

_Not… it’s not that’s bad._

“Bullshit.” She looked around for some kind of cloth to help him, but since they were in an alleyway this time she could see nothing. “Merlin, we have to get you out of here.” She tugged at the sleeve of her t-shirt, picturing thin, pale fingers in place of her sun-browned ones.

_Don’t… don’t leave._ She stroked his hair, slick with either sweat or blood, she couldn’t tell.

“I won’t,” she promised. “The others are on their way.” She looked down at the wound. If they wanted him to survive until backup arrived, she would have to stop the bleeding. Unfortunately, his robes were soaked, so soaked that they were pretty much useless in closing the wound.

_Well?_ he said. Ginny could tell that he was only pretending to be calm.

“We need to stop that bleeding,” she muttered. In the real world Ginny stopped for a long moment, trying to figure out the best way to go about saving Professor Snape, but in the dream world she didn’t hesitate. In one fluid movement, she brought her t-shirt over her head and pressed it against Professor Snape’s torso.

It made her blush – a little in the fantasy and a lot in reality. Even though she knew that this was the most logical thing to do in the circumstances she had created, it still felt uncomfortable, like a violation of rules that she had barely ever had to consider. The worst part was that she couldn’t imagine how Professor Snape would act in real life.

Tom would have assured her that it was all alright. Tom had always encouraged her fantasies – of course, that had been half of what she talked about with him, so it hadn’t exactly been altruistic. The more she had imagined, the more of himself he was able to pour into her, and the easier it was for him to take over and use her to open the Chamber of Secrets. Still, at some point she had stopped imagining normal scenarios and started imagining stuff like _this_. Stuff that made her uncomfortable, but with Tom’s encouragement the discomfort had become normal, almost part of the draw.

She didn’t think that Professor Snape would be anything like that. He had been invited to the Burrow for one purpose, and yet he had never forced her to talk about it. Hell, _he’d_ divulged more than she had, divulged things that she was sure he would rather leave in the past. She had a feeling that, if she told him about what Tom encouraged within her, he would be upset.

The last thing that Ginny wanted was pity, but Professor Snape had never acted like he pitied her. Maybe, if she found the courage to tell him about the things Tom had told her were alright to think about, he’d find a way to make it so she wouldn’t ever have to think about them again.

* * *

“Professor,” Ginny said hesitantly. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at her. “Professor, can I – can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said. Ginny took a deep breath.

“So, I know that the possession thing wasn’t my fault. Once Tom – I mean, once You-Know-Who got into my head I was done for. I can’t really remember what I did then, just that there were times I blacked out and couldn’t – couldn’t figure out what I did during that time. One moment I’d be in the Great Hall, and the next I’d be in the bathroom. That bathroom. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out, but it’s, you know, it’s fine. I understand that I couldn’t be expected to know what was really going on.” Professor Snape nodded, and Ginny took another deep breath. This was the part that made her nervous. “What is my fault, really my fault, is that I listened to _him_. And now it’s like I’m still listening to him, and – and-“ She looked down at her hands. “And I want to stop, but I also _don’t_ want to stop.”

“In what ways does it feel as if you are still listening to the Dark Lord?” Professor Snape said. Ginny flushed a little.

“I – It’s private.”

“You can tell me as much or as little as you like,” he said. Ginny shook her head, and Professor Snape leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Believe me, Miss Weasley, whatever you have to say, I can assure you I have heard far worse.”

“It’s not hearing him, really,” Ginny said. “It’s thinking things – things he would have said were normal. I know it’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t be thinking of them. But he – he said it was alright, and now I can’t stop thinking about _those_ things.”

“What kind of things?” Ginny flushed even further.

“I – I can’t tell you.” For a moment she expected the Potions Master to press her further, but then he leaned back in his chair.

“Alright,” he said. She looked up at him. Every inch of him, every angle seemed seeped in a supernatural kind of confidence. Ginny relaxed a little. No one could look like that and not know exactly what to do.

“So how can I make it stop?” she asked eagerly. Professor Snape shrugged, the gesture seeming to clash with his usual appearance.

“It will take time,” he said. “The kind of thoughts that the Dark Lord encourages are not easy to let go. I haven’t been under his influence for over a decade, and I still have to battle my first reaction at times. I am not always successful even now. But with time and effort-“

“They’re not those thoughts!” Ginny burst out. Professor Snape’s words seemed to come from a far deeper and more intimate place than her stupid little fantasies, and she was embarrassed to think that he would be willing to dig up those kind of things for her sake. “They’re not _Dark_ , not like that. They’re just, you know, kind of wrong.” Professor Snape blinked.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“They’re just dumb girl stuff,” she muttered. “Just – just fantasies, you know. About people.”

“Ah,” Professor Snape said in understanding. Ginny wished that she could sink down through the floor. “Well, in that case, the kind of thoughts you speak of are more or less harmless as long as they stay in the realm of fantasy. It’s when these… intimate matters enter the real world that they can become more difficult to manage. I believe that Professor McGonagall usually does the talk on contraceptives and consent and such at the beginning of your third year, but if you have any questions in that direction I’m sure that she would be more than happy to discuss it with you at an appropriate time.” Ginny stared at him.

“What?” she said. “That’s it?”

“Were you expecting anything else?”

“But – But Tom was encouraging it! It’s dirty and wrong and I knew it, I let him make it seem normal, I-“

“The Dark Lord encouraged you to spill your deepest secrets because it allowed him to control you to a certain extent,” Professor Snape said firmly. “The fact that, at your age, these kinds of fantasies feature in those secrets is completely healthy and normal. It is unfortunate that you and your fantasies were used in this manner, but part of recovery is always deciding what aspects of your previous situation were beneficial and what aspects should be changed.” Ginny was gaping. Professor Snape cleared his throat awkwardly. “Honestly, Professor McGonagall is better at this than I am. If you have any more specific concerns, I would suggest going to her or to Professor Sprout. Even my talk to _my_ third years tends to be uncomfortable at best.”

“But you don’t mind me coming to you if I want to?” Ginny said tentatively. Professor Snape sighed.

“If you must,” he said, sounding supremely Snape-like once again.

* * *

Ginny locked her door and stripped off her t-shirt once again. Her left hand trailed downward from her sternum to her stomach lightly, and she hesitated only briefly before undoing the button of her jeans.

_Are you alright?_ His voice was harsh, almost violent in its worry, but his hands were soft and gentle.

“I’m fine,” she said. “More than fine, now that you’re here.” His hooked nose buried itself into the crook of her neck, lips pressing lightly over scars left from his on-the-field mediwizardry.

_I thought I was going to lose you_ , he said. A hand slipped into her pants, and she had to shift awkwardly to accommodate it. The real Ginny had never dared to do this before, and it took her a moment to figure out where his fingers would have gone if they were really there.

“I thought so too,” she said. “I love you, now love me.”


End file.
